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where all the Cabinet and most of the Senate came for their meals； and I had eight permanents。 Soon their brows clouded。 The first flush of victory passed away。 Night after night they sat over their calculations； which all came wrong。 I smiledand was a villain！ None of their sums would prove。 None of their estimates matched the performance！ Never a muster…roll that fitted as it should do！ And Ithe despised boarding…mistressI alone knew why！ Often and often； when Memminger has said to me； with an oath； 〃Why this discordancy in our totals？〃 have my lips burned to tell the secret！ But no！ I hid it in my bosom。 And when at last I saw a black regiment march into Richmond； singing 〃John Brown；〃 I cried； for the first time in twenty years； 〃Six times nine is fifty…four；〃 and gloated in my sweet revenge。
Then was hushed the harp of Phebe； and Dick told his story。
THE INSPECTOR OF GAS…METERS' STORY
Mine is a tale of the ingratitude of republics。 It is well…nigh thirty years since I was walking by the Owego and Ithaca Railroad；a crooked road； not then adapted to high speed。 Of a sudden I saw that a long cross timber； on a trestle； high above a swamp； had sprung up from its ties。 I looked for a spike with which to secure it。 I found a stone with which to hammer the spike。 But at this moment a train approached； down hill。 I screamed。 They heard！ But the engine had no power to stop the heavy train。 With the presence of mind of a poet； and the courage of a hero； I flung my own weight on the fatal timber。 I would hold it down； or perish。 The engine came。 The elasticity of the pine timber whirled me in the air！ But I held on。 The tender crossed。 Again I was flung in wild gyrations。 But I held on。 〃It is no bed of roses；〃 I said； 〃but what act of Parliament was there that I should be happy？〃 Three passenger cars and ten freight cars； as was then the vicious custom of that road； passed me。 But I held on； repeating to myself texts of Scripture to give me courage。 As the last car passed； I was whirled into the air by the rebound of the rafter。 〃Heavens！〃 I said； 〃if my orbit is a hyperbola； I shall never return to earth。〃 Hastily I estimated its ordinates； and calculated the curve。 What bliss！ It was a parabola！ After a flight of a hundred and seventeen cubits； I landed； head down； in a soft mud…hole！
In that train was the young U。 S。 Grant； on his way to West Point for examination。 But for me the armies of the Republic would have had no leader。
I pressed my claim； when I asked to be appointed Minister to England。 Although no one else wished to go； I alone was forgotten。 Such is gratitude with republics！
He ceased。 Then Sarah Blatchford told
THE WHEELER AND WILSON'S OPERATIVE'S STORY
My father had left the anchorage of Sorrento for a short voyage； if voyage it may be called。 Life was young； and this world seemed heaven。 The yacht bowled on under tight…reefed staysails； and all was happy。 Suddenly the corsairs seized us； all were slain in my defence； but Ithis fatal gift of beauty bade them spare my life！
Why linger on my tale？ In the Zenana of the Shah of Persia I found my home。 〃How escape his eye？〃 I said； and； fortunately； I remembered that in my reticule I carried one box of F。 Kidder's indelible ink。 Instantly I applied the liquid in the large bottle to one cheek。 Soon as it was dry； I applied that in the small bottle； and sat in the sun one hour。 My head ached with the sunlight； but what of that？ I was a fright； and I knew all would be well。
I was consigned； so soon as my hideous deficiencies were known； to the sewing…room。 Then how I sighed for my machine！ Alas！ it was not there； but I constructed an imitation from a cannon…wheel； a coffee…mill； and two nut…crackers。 And with this I made the underclothing for the palace and the Zenana。
I also vowed revenge。 Nor did I doubt one instant how； for in my youth I had read Lucretia Borgia's memoirs； and I had a certain rule for slowly slaying a tyrant at a distance。 I was in charge of the Shah's own linen。 Every week I set back the buttons on his shirt collars by the width of one thread； or； by arts known to me； I shrunk the binding of the collar by a like proportion。 Tighter and tighter with each week did the vice close around his larynx。 Week by week； at the high religious festivals； I could see his face was blacker and blacker。 At length the hated tyrant died。 The leeches called it apoplexy。 I did not undeceive them。 His guards sacked the palace。 I bagged the diamonds； fled with them to Trebizond； and sailed thence in a caique to South Boston。 No more！ such memories oppress me。
Her voice was hushed。 I told my tale in turn。
THE CONDUCTOR'S STORY
I was poor。 Let this be my excuse； or rather my apology。 I entered a Third Avenue car at Thirty…sixth Street； and saw the conductor sleeping。 Satan tempted me； and I took from him his badge； 213。 I see the hated figures now。 When he woke； he knew not he had lost it。 The car started； and he walked to the rear。 With the badge on my coat I collected eight fares within； stepped forward； and sprang into the street。 Poverty is my only apology for the crime。 I concealed myself in a cellar where men were playing with props。 Fear is my only excuse。 Lest they should suspect me； I joined their game； and my forty cents were soon three dollars and seventy。 With these ill…gotten gains I visited the gold exchange； then open evenings。 My superior intelligence enabled me to place well my modest means； and at midnight I had a competence。 Let me be a warning to all young men。 Since that night I have never gambled more。
I threw the hated badge into the river。 I bought a palace on Murray Hill； and led an upright and honorable life。 But since that night of terror the sound of the horse…cars oppresses me。 Always since； to go up town or down； I order my own coupe； with George to drive me； and never have I entered the cleanly； sweet； and airy carriage provided for the public。 I cannot； conscience is too much for me。 You see in me a monument of crime。
I said no more。 A moment's pause； a few natural tears； and a single sigh hushed the assembly； then Bertha； with her siren voice； told
THE WIFE OF BIDDEFORD'S STORY
At the time you speak of I was the private governess of two lovely boys； Julius and PompeyPompey the senior of the two。 The black…eyed darling！ I see him now。 I also see； hanging to his neck； his blue…eyed brother； who had given Pompey his black eye the day before。 Pompey was generous to a fault； Julius parsimonious beyond virtue。 I； therefore； instructed them in two different rooms。 To Pompey I read the story of 〃Waste not； want not。〃 To Julius； on the other hand； I spoke of the All…love of his great Mother Nature； and her profuse gifts to her children。 Leaving him with grapes and oranges； I stepped back to Pompey； and taught him how to untie parcels so as to save the string。 Leaving him winding the string neatly； I went back to Julius； and gave him ginger…cakes。 The dear boys grew from year to year。 They outgrew their knickerbockers； and had trousers。 They outgrew their jackets； and became men； and I felt that I had not l